No Lines
by 23.OscarWilde
Summary: Sebastian Michaelis, entrepreneur extravagant with dark tendencies. Ciel Phantomhive, ambitious editor fresh from college. Will Sebastian lay down his dark cards and more over, will Ciel be able to cope with hand that is dealt to him? M for obvious reasons.
1. Chapter 1

**WRITER'S NOTE:**

I have been neglecting my readers terribly and I am mortified. Reason for this, if there is any that can undo my injustice, I have a new job and I am working on an 'original' novel; No Lines. (Obviously you know that because you are going to read it as we type) Reason for me to upload this new version here is to see if it is as good as my editor (Sweet Karen, my darling doll) and I think it is.

On an entirely unrelated note; I cannot guarantee anything for my other two stories, I think my mind is currently too occupied with this story and my new job (which requires a lot from my attention) but I will leave you with the promise that I will look into it as soon as I find some free time.

I hope you enjoy the new version of 'No Lines' and that you can all give me some constructive criticism on how to improve it. (Bare with me, it's my first attempt to write from a single person's point of view, Sebastian's obviously, so it might come off as odd or forced. I am really working on improving that but it is miles out of my own comfort zone, something I must do in order to become a more accomplished writer. Thank you!)

Enjoy!

O.

* * *

The monotone sound of my alarm clock cuts through a dreamless sleep. I grope around the nightstand until I find the snooze button and press it for another five minutes of the warm comfort of my bed. I yawn before I open my eyes wide and stare at the ceiling above me. It's a seamless eggshell white, like most of the walls in my bedroom. Sucking my lungs full of fresh air, I roll my head to my left. Pride and loneliness struggle for domination when I discover that the pillow and sheets are not slept on. _Four months - I should be used to this by now._

Propping up on my elbows I glance around the impeccably clean room and I notice that the stains have disappeared from my dark hardwood floors. My housekeeper did a great job erasing everything from my past, just like I asked her a week ago. I fall back into the mattress and stretch under the cotton sheets. I dread getting up and getting dressed but the penetrating beeping of my alarm clock reminds me that I don't have that luxury. Today is not one of those days I can afford to dawdle. I hit the off button, kick the covers back and move into a sitting position by giving my long legs a strong swing. The floor feels cold underneath my bare feet. I yawn once again and saunter through the dark room to open the curtains. The brightness of dawn hurts my eyes and I have to squint. Slowly, my pupils start to adjust to the light that streams though the floor-to-ceiling windows and the scenery of London's Barbican district starts to unravel in front of my eyes. It was another typical English winters day; dreary with a slight promise of snow later in the afternoon.

I turn on my heels, cross the room again and head to the en suite bathroom. I open the faucets of the shower and shed myself from yesterdays' boxers. I look in the tall mirror and blink at my reflection. It's been a long time that I was able to look at my naked body without having all sorts of unwanted feelings. I smirk and nod, and compliment myself that I'm not that bad looking before I dash into the shower.

The water is a pleasant break. It helps me to clear my mind so I can quietly prepare myself for a very busy day. I tilt my head back and close my eyes while the hard jet of water beats down on my face. There are too many things I already need done before lunch and the reminder of _that appointment _that popped up on my Blackberry last night could not have come at a worse time. I sigh vexed and place the palms of my hands against the vast black onyx tiles. Looking down, another tortured noise rips from my lips. The temptation to reach down and forget for several blissful minutes is overwhelming. When I actually catch myself reaching, I instantly turn off the shower and step out. _Perhaps the appointment came just in time._

I snatch up a fresh towel from the rack. I can hear my phone ringing non-stop in my bedroom and drying myself off, I ignore it completely and move to my closet to pick out a costume. I take my usual amount of time to dress and groom myself properly before picking up.

"Yes William. I know the launch is at the end of this week." I check my reflection in the mirror and readjust my slim navy tie. "What do you mean we lost the venue? It was never reserved?!" I nearly crush my BlackBerry in aggression and press it tight against my ear. "Which incompetent idiot was in charge of arranging that?"

I slam the bedroom door shut behind me and stalk to the kitchen. I growl a very short good morning to my housekeeper who is already folding my clean laundry. With disdain, I watch her roll up my socks into a tiny bun. It stretches them horribly. I snap my fingers at her and throw a persistent look at the socks. Fold them - I mouth. She inhales deep, untangles the bun and folds them, giving me a meaningful smile after. I return it coolly and sink down on one of the high bar stools at the breakfast counter. She mouths coffee and mimics a drinking gesture. I nod and put my entire focus back to the bothersome wake up call.

"I do not care that she had to run errands or if she made overtime working on the manuscripts. When I need something done, I should be able to rely on my staff to execute my request accordingly. I'm running a business, not a kindergarten. I cannot continue holding hands and condoning this kind of behavior," I roar and the sudden hand gesture I make nearly knocks the cup out of my housekeeper's hands. She gives me a look and I return it by nodding angrily from the cup to the counter in front of me. Composed, she places the much needed caffeine in front of me and walks to one of the cupboards to gather the makings of my breakfast.

"I am tired of excuses and explanations, William. I want solutions and I want to see Miss Rin in my office after lunch. Well than cancel her two o'clock meeting, this needs to be dealt with immediately. She should know that playtime is over and that if she wants to run with the big boys, she needs to step up her game."

"Would you like warm milk and extra honey with your honey Loops, Sir?"

Rendered completely silent for a second, I blink perplexed at my housekeeper. Her red lips curl into a sweet smile that has diabolic genius written all over it. I can hear William trying to choke back a chuckle on the other end of the line and that snaps me right back to reality.

"No thank you, Miss Durless. And William, I want a new proposal for another venue, pre-approved by you, on my desk by ten. Understood?" I snap autocratic and hang up.

I closely watch her move about the kitchen. She does not seem the least bit remorseful about her action and places the bowl with cereal in front of me with a much more docile smile this time. I pick up my spoon and dip it into my favorite breakfast meal.

"I do not appreciate that you openly mock me while I am talking to my staff."

She stops folding towels and turns to me, her face a perfect example of childish innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sir."

Annoyed, I poke about my cereal while holding her gaze. "I do not believe that. I am sure you are very much aware of the status a man in my position must uphold. So for future references, I would very much appreciate it if you kept those wicked little comments to yourself while I am making a business call. If that is too hard, I will find a maid who can carry out such an easy task without backtalk. Am I making myself clear, Angelina?"

Her fierce red eyes are looking squarely into mine and her silence is daring me to act on my threat. She knows I would never fire her, I enjoy her spunk too much, but she needs to be reminded that I am her boss and not her roommate. Her expression scolds me almost imperceptible and she tosses her red bangs.

"Crystal clear, Sir," she replies coolly and turns her back on me to continue her work.

Satisfied with the outcome, I take a only five minutes over the usual ten I take to fully enjoy my cereal and double espresso shot. The phone call ordeal put me behind on my schedule and I have to rush to make my appointment in time. Wolfing down my breakfast in record time, I gather my wallet and keys, instruct her on the groceries I need and rush out the front door.

* * *

Morning traffic in London is the worst and putting aside my prejudice about public transportation, I decide to take the tube. It will save me the irritation of having to wait for a taxi driver to feel inclined enough to maneuver out of the jam and pick me up. None of them are desperate enough to do that during rush hours.

I go along with the working crowd, quickening my step to reach the subway station in less than five minutes. I move down the steps mashed between a sharp looking stockbroker who's talking so fast I half expect him to trip over his own words and friendly looking older woman who's keeping a keen eye on the child that clings to her hand. In the station I buy the Times, Financial Times and a package of Lucky Strike. I crinkle my nose in disgust when the register girl recommends their tea and decline with a reserved smile.

The tube to King's Cross st. Pancras is overcrowded and I am wedged between a bench and the other people who weren't in time to gain themselves a seat and are forced to stand in the aisle too. The air around me is damp and all kinds of smells clot my nostrils. Cheap cologne, sweat, shampoo and cigarettes; it is enough to give me a massive headache and reminds me why I detest traveling through public transportation.

After a fifteen minute ride from hell, I stumble out of the tube and onto the platform at King's Cross. I have about ten more minutes before the tube to Piccadilly leaves so I buy a package of Advil at the Boots pharmacy and a bottle of water at a small food stall. I take two tablets and jug them back with water before throwing myself into yet another jam-packed tube.

I manage to wriggle my way to the middle of the aisle and reach above my head to grab an iron bar. I feel bodies press against my back, involuntarily shoving me forward and leaving little to no room for me to stand on. I turn my head to the open doors and curse inwardly at the operator to start driving already. With the little friction I still have, I started squirming and finally manage to dig up my BlackBerry from pants pocket to check the time. I'm running horribly late for my appointment and it vexes me tremendously. Extremely piqued by my helpless situation, I start typing up a text to William.

**From S. Michaelis**

_Have you found a new venue yet? I told you to keep me posted! _

Only seconds later I receive a reply that sends me straight into an aggressive frenzy.

**From W.T. Spears**

_No and no._

I clench my teeth to keep from cursing outwardly and start up a reply. The tube finally comes to a shocking start. It's such a forceful jerk that the crowd automatically jolts forward. I feel something stomp on my shoe and I tear my eyes away from the screen. A young boy looks up and his wide blue eyes blink curiously at me. I scoff at the kid and try to locate the person who is responsible for the hellion that dirtied my Italian leather shoes. Two feet down the tube I can hear a woman call a name and the boy seems to briefly respond before turning his focus on me again. I frown dark and produce a dismissing hiss. It proofs to be effective and I watch the boy trail off to his mother, throwing a frightened look over his shoulder every other step. My temporary frustration with my suffocating surroundings makes me forget about the text message entirely and I now only wish to be released from the warm pressure of the crowd that presses against _every_ inch of my body.

At Piccadilly, the mass carries me out the tube and I take a deep breath of fresh air, free off shampoo and sweat. It's still about a four minute walk, perhaps three if I walk real fast. Outside, I head to Regent street. I am compelled to skip my usual sandwich and coffee at Gelupo up in Soho and head straight towards the St. James Square. After only two and a half minutes, I cross the private garden that is in the center of the by Georgian and neo-Georgian buildings surrounded square and walk up to number 13. Without hesitating, even if I would've liked to, I walk up to the front door and press on the buzzer. Seconds later I hear a low click and I push open the heavy wooden door.

I enter in a sterile white hallway. The heels of my shoes click on the marble and the echo bounces off the walls around me. I move towards the glass door at the end, open it and step into a bright lobby. There is a wide dark wooden reception in front of me and a seated area with black leather chairs to my right. The male who is manning the desk looks up from his computer screen and beams at me instantly.

"Good morning, Mister Michaelis, Sir." He gets up and walks to a tiny kitchenette in the back. "The usual?"

I grunt, unfasten the button on my jacket and sink down on one of the chairs. My head is still throbbing painfully so I rub my temples is slow and regular circles. My cool fingers are hardly soothing.

"Running a tat late this morning, aren't we?"

I look up, straight into the bright green eyes of the receptionist. The cool glare I shoot back at him keeps him from attempting anymore conversation and he places the double espresso on the coffee table in front of me. I give him a short nod as a thank you and watch him retreating quickly. He crawls behind his computer again and answers the telephone in a gleeful tone.

"Good morning, Doctor Phipps's office speaking. How my I help you?"

Unfolding the papers, the ones I had stuffed under my arm since the Barbican station, I leaf through them without reading a word. I'm hardly interested and now even in a worse mood since I heard the receptionist answer the phone, reminding me of a cruel reality. I re-fold the papers neatly and place them on the table next to my coffee. This is the umpteenth time I am inside this office and every time, I start to hate it a little more.

"The doctor will be with you at any moment, Mister Michaelis."

I jerk my head and attempt an appreciative smile.

"Thank you, Ronald."

He has hardly spoken those words out loud when the door opens and a tall male with shaggy sandy hair steps into the lobby. He grants me a reserved smile. "Good morning, Sebastian." He gestures inside his office. "Do come in."

I gather every shred of willpower I can summon, get up and cross the lobby. Ronald wishes me good luck, like he always does. It's stupid, because he knows it's not luck that I need, but a tiny smile bubbles up in the corner of my mouth anyway. I nod and shake the doctor's hand before stepping into the office. He closes the door behind me.

* * *

"Please take a seat," and he waves towards one of the black leather couches. I sit down and wait for him to take his usual seat across from me. He walks to the cabinet behind his desk first to retrieve his file and I aimlessly glance around the room. A vast bookcase filled to the brink with medical books no doubt. Picture frames with his doctorate and other degrees. There aren't any unnecessary decorations and I can appreciate that.

"Alright Sebastian," he sinks down and opens the brown paper map that holds my file. His eyes briefly scan the notes before he looks me square in the eye. "Last time we talked about mending the contact with the people you harmed during the period you were addicted. Have you managed to get in contact with your family?" He asks and puts his pen to paper, ready to write down everything I say.

"I sought contact with my brother over the phone."

"Very good. And how did that go? How did he react after being out of contact for so long?"

I shift in place and align my fingertips in my lap. "He was at first very reluctant to hear from me. He could not believe that with the heavy religious childhood we had, I had surrendered myself to such violent sexual acts. But he eventually relented and agreed to meet me. We had coffee and despite the inescapable tension, I think we had a decent talk."

"That is very good to hear," the doctor smiles and jots down some notes. "But he said he could not make sense of your sexual addiction because of your religious upbringing. What do you think he means by that?"

I chortle mirthlessly and look the doctor square in the eye. "You know what he means by that. The usual Christian mumbo jumbo. He believes that Jesus Christ is our Lord and savior and that if I had believed more or prayed hard enough, I would not have succumbed to the deceitful evil that is sex that is not meant for propagation."

"Have you tried to convince him otherwise?"

"I don't believe there is a point to that. He is still very much religious, like my mother. He did happen to tell me that my father filed for a divorce because he no longer believes in the lifestyle my mother tries to enforce on him. He could not provide me with a current address or number though."

The doctor stops writing and looks up. "That is a huge development, Sebastian. You always regretted losing contact with your father."

"I know it is," I agree.

"Has this affected you in way that-" He stops and squints. "No, let me rephrase that. Did this stir up any old desires like wanking off or digging up escort services from the yellow pages?"

His frankness makes me smirk. "Thank you for that, and yes, although that is nothing new. I think about wanking off and escorts almost twenty-four straight hours a day, seven days a week. I did not yield though."

The doctor puckers his lips and nods slowly. "Very impressive Sebastian. I am awfully proud of your resilience," he offers me a smile and puts his pen to the paper again. "Have you talked to your friend, Mister Spears, as well?"

"I have, and our contact is almost what it used to be. He can rely on me to put my entire focus on my work and he is very appreciative of that. Had he been that type of person, I am sure he would've send you a fruit basket or something similar."

He huffs a dry laugh and makes some more notes. "So I can safely assume your productivity has increased?"

"By leaps and bounds."

"And the pressure of your job still does not threaten to cause a relapse?"

"Not at all. Even now that we have taken on more clients and it's busier than before, I can control the urge to, as you so eloquently phrased it before, wank off at both the office and at home."

"Good. I am very glad to see that we are making such progress. I know that it has been a long and frankly shitty way up from that place you were before, but you will get there."

"Yes," I nod slowly. "It has been a very shitty time," I repeat and after, the room falls quiet. I stare at my hands and try not to remember where I was before I walked into Doctor Phipps's office. It's unnerving to try and fathom where I would be right now had I not taken back control.

"Do you need a tissue?"

His sarcasm is so abundantly clear that is makes me laugh. I appreciate the blunt and clear attitude he takes with me. If Phipps had been a doctor who keeps claiming he understands my problem, I would have been much more likely to drop therapy and mindlessly continue with what I was doing. Something that still seems so tempting most of the time.

"No. I'm fine," I wave his offer away. "I'm not allowed to wank off anymore so I don't really need them, do I?" And this makes the both of us grin. He pencils down some more jottings before looking up at me. He seems hesitant about something and his brows furrow, as if he is trying to find the right words.

"Now that you have opened that door again. You have always been very uncommunicative about your religious upbringing and how this might have affected you in later life and could have been a what triggered your addiction. Are you ready to talk about this some more?"

I sit back, crossing my ankle over my knee and folding my arms over my chest. "My upbringing has little to do with my addiction. So my parents were frigid and demonized sex my entire childhood. Yes, they considered lust and sex treacherous devices the devil used to lure people into the dark oblivion of the underworld. It does not mean that my thoughts about sex are based on those demented ideas."

"I am not saying that it is the sole reason you got addicted. But you have to admit that whenever we get to this subject, you are being very passive aggressive. Your entire posture is closed off and defensive."

"I don't have to admit to anything!" I snap and untangle my arms. "I merely get annoyed by your persistent crusade to proof my childhood was the cause of my addiction. It's preposterous!"

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but there is no harm in trying to explore if your thoughts about sex were affected by your religious upbringing."

"I am not here to explore. I am here to get help. And I expect to get such, not some Freudian look on my problems. If I wanted that, I would've gone to one of those spiritual hippy doctors who would've made me relive my birth."

The doctor nods and writes some more in his file. "You are right. I won't mention it anymore today. That leaves us with only," he checks his watch for the time. "No, we're out of time. I would like you to try and contact your father and-" He reaches for his I-pad and opens his digital agenda. "And I would like to see you back here in three weeks. That would be on Monday morning at nine on the twelfth of December. Is that okay with you?"

I retrieve my BlackBerry and open my own agenda. "I have an appointment, but I can move that to later that afternoon."

'Perfect," he types down the appointment and closes his I-pad. "If we keep up this tempo, you might be ready for the eleventh step within two months."

I only nod and force a smile. I know that he is only trying to help but my childhood is one of those things I rather not speak off, let alone blame for affecting my current life, thus making it so that their ideas still dominates a part of my brain. I simply refuse to believe that. I stand, and he follows. We shake hands and I turn to walk to the door.

"Oh and Sebastian. If your friend does get the wild notion that he needs to send me anything to thank me for my services, I would rather prefer a bottle of Scottish whiskey."

I look over my shoulder. The doctor briefly looks up from his papers and smirks with a boyish charm. Due to anger, it leaves me unaffected for what would be the third time since I started therapy here four months ago. I open the door and wave over my shoulder, "See you in three weeks, Doctor Phipps," I say and close it behind me.

In the lobby I dial the number of my driver and tell him to pick me up at Piccadilly Circus. I fail to return Ronald's goodbye and only vaguely hear him calling that I am forgetting my papers. I ignore it and stomp out of the lobby, barking orders at my driver before I hang up.

The echoes of my hasty steps vibrate through the empty hallway. I hear the low click of the front door and as it opens, I slip past the person that steps in, careful not to make any eye-contact. The sun was peeking through the thick gray clouds. I regret not bringing my sunglasses along. I reach in my pants pocket and take out the new package of Lucky Strikes. I rip the plastic and foil off and push one of the sticks out of the small box and put it between my lips. The click of the Zippo echoes over the square and I take in a deep pull. _Idiot. _I take another drag, expertly flick it to the curb and head back to Piccadilly.

* * *

The town car was already waiting for me to arrive. I yank the door open and sink into the leather seating of the black Maybach. The driver looks at me through the mirror.

"Where to, Sir?"

"The office, Tanaka."

"Very well."

The car pulls up and joins the taxi traffic. I gaze out the window at the familiar scene, cup my chin and trail my index finger across my lips. I want to think about my work schedule but cannot be bothered. I'm too vexed.

"Tanaka. Pass through High Holborn on the way to the office, would you? I'm peckish."

The blue eyes look at me through the rear view mirror and I can see a cheeky twinkle in them. "Certainly, Sir."

Exactly ten minutes after eleven I walk up the stone steps to a tall glass building with 'MICHAELIS HOUSE OF PUBLISHING' written glass front door. The glass double doors slide open soundlessly and I walk into the vast lobby. I pass the impressive wooden desk and nod coolly at the two receptionist. They reply dutifully, I hardly hear it and push the button summoning the elevator. The doors open, I step inside and press the button to the lift whisks me to the twenty-fourth floor.

The doors open to a second lobby and I walk out, taking a right to my office. Passing the desk of my personal assistant, I nod at her with a reserved smile and tell her to get me a double espresso.

"I put your mail on your desk and Mister Spears is waiting for you inside your office, Sir," she informs me. I turn on my heels and push open the door to my office with my back.

"Thank you, Hannah. Get me Gray from the Barcelona firm on line one," I order and turn around in the entryway and close the door behind me. William is sitting on the navy leather couch, having a conversation on his phone in rapid French. I nod. He nods. I cross the room to my desk, put down the bag of Krispy Kreme down and go through my mail. Nothing captures my interest so I turn around, lean against the desk and wait for William to finish his conversation.

"Oui, naturellement. Soyez assuré de mon entière coopération. Oui, merci bien monsieur Violet. Au revoir."

I arch an eyebrow at William. He looks me square in the eye and repositions his already snug glasses further up the slim bridge of his nose. "I assumed you were going to be in by ten?"

"It is not wise to assume things, William. I had an early appointment and due to circumstances, I had to take public transportation. It was torture."

William pulls a face. "Yes, we all feel very sorry for you that you were forced to use the public transportation system like us regular people always do. The file you requested is already processed and the venue is reserved for Saturday from eight till midnight. The catering company and employees are already informed and someone from pr is calling the publisher right now to change the address on the invitations."

I nod and peek into the map that's on top of my desk. "Have you notified the writer yet?"

"That is on top of my list, after calling the publisher, which I am on my way of doing right now," he turns on his heels and strolls to the door.

"William?"

He turns in the doorway and looks me in the eye. "Yes Sebastian?"

"I like your anticipation, but arrange a venue for one of my biggest writers without my approval one more time and we are going to have a serious talk about that."

William arches an eyebrow. "Certainly, Sir," he replies in a demeaning manner. "Next time I will be sure to call you during therapy to arrange the details."

I freeze for a second, but compose myself quickly. "Point taken. I reckon you informed Miss Rin that I want to see her in my office after lunch to talk about her failure to be productive."

"I did, but I must remind you that you have a one-thirty appointment this afternoon. A certain Mister Trancy. He's coming by to drop off his manuscripts."

I frown and retrieve my BlackBerry. "Blasted. Was that today?" Scrolling through my schedule, I walk around my desk and drop down in my chair. A blue box pops up on my screen with the name and subject of the meeting. I groan and rub my chin. "No matter. I can squeeze her in before that. I should not take too long."

"Very well," William steps outside, hesitates in the doorway and turns back to me. "How is therapy?"

Looking up, I give him a very rare earnest smile. "It was good. Thank you."

William nods. It is all the information he needs. The phone starts ringing. Line one. We exchange one more look before he closes the door and I pick up.

"Charles. Buenos días. Cómo estas?"

* * *

A lot of changes? Do you think it is better than the first version or are you more drawn to a multiple POV story? I would sincerely love to know your thoughts, all of your thoughts. It's a matter of grave importance to me to know if this is working out or if I might as well just give up and become a baker or something.

To all those dear readers, review. Please do! I know I am in no position to ask this of you because I have been uploading every blue Monday or so, but please, find it in your heart to send me a well meant review and help me improve this story or encourage me to continue on the path I am taking.

Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

WRITER'S NOTE:

So, second chapter. For those who didn't catch up, I changed the entire storyline and writing style. So, in order to understand what the heck is going on down here, you might want to go back to reread chapter 1.

I am working on the 4th chapter, so be it that I finish that before the end of this week, I will upload another chapter next weekend.

Hope you enjoy it!

O.

* * *

After I hang up on a lengthy conversation with the representative of the Barcelona firm, I pull the Krispy Kreme bag my way and open it. The sweet scent of glace reaches my nostrils and I inhale deep. Giving up my original addiction, I developed an incredible sweet tooth.

I sank my teeth in the sticky glace and tear a bite off the soft dough. Pleasure. I chew slowly with closed eyes. The sugar stimulates my tastebuds and I feel a good shiver run down my spine. It does not even match half the gratification I used to feel but it does not make me feel as guilty.

I dip the doughnut in my lukewarm espresso and eat it while opening my mail. Seconds after I finished going through the bills and pop the last piece of dough in my mouth, the phone rings again. I sigh annoyed, shove the unopened envelops aside and pick up.

"Yes Hannah?"

"I have Mister Landers on line two." Ash. Just what I need to ruin my morning entirely.

"Tell him I will call him in three hours. I am busy."

"I told him that Sir, but he insists. Says it's urgent. Something about the change of venue?"

I breathe in and hold it for a second to mask my irritation. I knew he would be calling once William told him about the change of plans. I exhale wearily and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Put him through."

"Very well, Sir," her voice is lined with empathy. I wait in silence for the writer to level his reproach towards me . The lines connect and I can hear him muttering insults about my personal assistant. I subtly clear my throat to make him aware that I can overhear his resentful musing.

"Oh, Sebastian? Are you there?"

"I certainly am, Ash. Always a pleasure," I lie expertly. "Your launch is closing in. How are you doing?"

"It will be a success no doubt, the book is brilliant," he replies with his usual rarefied air. "But there is something that deeply concerns me."

"Is there?" I muse with faked surprise and draw invisible circles on my desk. "Pray tell what is bothering you."

"I got a very disturbing call from a certain Mister Spears," he murmurs. "Apparently the venue of my book release has been changed without my knowledge. Is this true?"

"It is," I confirm, not feeling like dancing around the issue.

"Really?" His condescending tone betrays he's not amused. "I thought I specifically requested the Carlton Club."

"Yes. I do seem to recall that, Ash. Is there a problem with the new venue?" I open the map and glance over the information William printed. Without bothering to read it, I already know Ash's objections.

"I don't know if you happened to have a look at it?"

"I am looking at it right now," I inform coolly.

"Good. Than you must agree with me that this sordid underground bar is no place to host the launch party of what might be my finest work, yet."

"With all due respect, Ash, in comparison with your older work, your newest book seems more dynamic and youthful. It has grit and it is raw and confronting. Taking all those fine qualities in regard, the Carlton would have seemed too posh and old-fashioned."

"I hardly see how that matters. When I request the Carlton, I expect you to honour my request and execute it accordingly," his voice had gone from unamused to arctic.

"I beg to differ, Ash. I have a team of very skilled pr agents who are trained to spot out the best suited venues. I'm sure that they know what they are doing."

"I don't think you are quiet understanding what I am saying, Sebastian. I do not care how skilled your so-called pr agents are. One of them blundered and I hope you fired the incompetent moron who did this. I requested the Carlton and I expected to get the Carlton. Not some impure waterhole for barbarians. I choose that specific venue to match the quality and magnitude of my latest work. I write accomplished novels, not some rancid porn paperback."

_If only_ - I think and mask my snort with a polite cough.

"No, I have not fired that person, yet. Listen Ash. This was ultimately my decision. I approved of it. You have only me to blame. If it is a complete failure, you will have my sincere apologies and I will give you full control over your future book release events."

"No Sebastian. If this turns out to be an epic failure, I will find a new publisher who can follow a simple order without smart backtalk and I will sue you for breeching the contract," he hisses low and hangs up before I am able to reply.

"Blasted!" I slam the receiver down and run a hand through my hair. _William better ought to know what he was doing with this venue or I'm royally screwed. And I will not go down alone with this ship._ I wheel my chair around and gaze through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Thick gray clouds gathered at the horizon. Figures.

My stomach growls low and I check the time. It was already a quarter past twelve. Soon, Miss Rin would be in my office and I still hadn't sorted through all my mail. I rub my temples, they are still throbbing painfully. I turn back to my desk and hit the intercom button on my phone.

"Hannah, could you get me a water, please."

She replies shortly and enters moments later with a glass and a cooled bottle. I take two more tablets of Advil and down them with a large drink of water. "Here are some documents for the financial department," I hand her several envelops. "Those needs to go out directly, it's important. Could you hold all my calls and tell them I will be available again after three, thank you," and I wave her off with a short gesture while focusing on the stack of new manuscripts of interest.

* * *

I am so emerged in my work that I hardly hear the knocking on my door. When the person ruffles their knuckles against the wood a second time, I look up, like awakening from a work daze. I check my watch. One o'clock.

"Come in," I call and neatly place the manuscript on top of the unopened ones. I take my reading glasses off, lace my hands together in front of me and assume a professional expression to hide my discontent. A mauve-haired woman peeks around the corner and by the nervous look on her face, I can gather that it's Miss Rin.

"Miss Rin," I stand and round my desk. "Do come in and close the door, please," I beckon her inside with a placid smile. "Have a seat," and I wave at one of the chairs across my desk.

"T-Thank you, Sir," she closes the door and walks over, tripping over her own feet. I swoop down in time to catch her before she's on hands and knees in my office; a position that would not stream with the anger I am about to channel.

"Are you alright, Miss Rin?"

"Y-yes," she looks up at me and her cheeks flush. "I am terribly sorry Mister Michaelis, Sir," she pulls herself up by my arms and stands straight. Clearly embarrassed, she smoothens out her black pencil skirt to give her trembling hands something to do. After another formal inquiry if she is alright, I place my hand in the small of her back and guide her to one of the seats and sit down myself after.

"Good, Miss Rin," I lean forward, my elbows on the desk and my hands knotted. "I was recently informed of your mistake regarding the venue for Mister Landers's book release. I hope you do understand I cannot let such a failure slide."

"Of course, Sir," she peeps and swallows audibly.

"Do you have anything to say that speaks on your behalf? Something that could justify such an inaccuracy?"

She fidgets with her fingers and exhales a shaky sigh. "No, Sir."

My patients with her is running out. I sighed vexed and rub my forehead. I try to remain composed and as I continue speaking, I can hear how arctic my voice is. It's menacing, but I could give fuck about that right now.

"Now, Miss Rin, do you realize that this severe mistake of yours could cost us one of our most prominent writers? Do you have any idea the impact of such a grave misstep? How much extra it'll cost us to reserve a venue on such short notice? Can that bird brain of yours even begin to fathom the stain such an amateur mistake will leave on our good name?! So no, Miss Rin, I will not take 'No Sir' as an answer. Give me a reason why you risked the company's reliability and my good name! Give me a reason why I should not go ahead and fire you on the spot?!"

She just fidgets with her fingers and produces wailing noises. Just when I think she's not going to answer and I get ready to tell her to pack her belongings and get out of my sight, she starts mumbling.

"Mister Spears said to tell you that it was his decision to not reserve the Carlton Club," she squeaks. I furrow my brows and gaze intently at the helpless heap of human in front of me.

"Did he happen to give a reason for this preposterous act of chivalry?" I ask coolly. She winces at the tone of my voice and swallows again.

"It had something to do with accessibility. The other club you can easily reach with public transportation without having to cross through St. James Square."

I twitch and shake my head with an inward chuckle. _Clever bastard_. I regard the trembling woman shrewdly and unfold my hands, placing the palms flat on the wood.

"Than Mister Spears must see more in you than I do. You are very lucky that he seems to have taken an interest in you. Do not disappoint his trust in your abilities."

"No Sir. Of course not, Sir," and she shakes her head vigorously.

"Good," I stand. She follows. "The job is still yours Miss Rin," I tell her calmly while collecting the manuscripts I already read. "I hope I can rely on you hence forth," I walk around the desk with brisk steps and head to the door. I open it and turn. The woman is still frozen in the chair, her big eyes blinking clueless at me. "You can get back to work, Miss Rin," I instruct and gesture into the lobby.

"Wha- of course Sir," she jumps to her feet and hurries to the door. "Thanks you Mister Michaelis," she nearly shouts and scurries off. I shake my head with a low chuckle and walk to Hannah's desk.

"Could you send these to editing. I don't see any profit in it but perhaps Spears or Blanc thinks otherwise."

"Certainly, Sir," Hannah stands and takes the thick envelops. "Also, your next appointment has arrived. I put them in the waiting area."

I turn my head. With Miss Rin acting like a unguided missile, I overlooked the two young men that were seated on the navy leather couches next to the elevator. One of them catches me scrutinizing. He freezes and gives me a meek smile. He looks positively nauseas with anxiety. I nod politely and turn to Hannah.

"These," I place my hand, fingers fanned out, on top the files she's holding. "Take care of those right now and when you're done, send my next appointment through." I throw one more look at the two males before whipping around and disappearing in my office.

* * *

Exactly ten minutes after I asked Hannah to deliver the documents, I hear a modest knock on the door.

"Enter," I answer without tearing my eyes away from the manuscript. The door opens and Hannah tells me once again that my two o'clock appointment has arrived. I regard her over the rim of my glasses and tell her to see them in. First the petrified blonde enters, closely followed his more composed looking slate haired companion.

"Welcome," I stand and walk over with my designated professional smile in place. "You must be Mister Trancy," I reach out my hand to the blonde.

"I am. Alois Trancy. Pleased to meet you, Sir," he replies, his voice shrill due to nerves.

My smile turns compassionate and I squeeze his hand encouraging. "No need to be nervous, Mister Trancy. Who did you bring with?" I ask and roll my eyes to the second male.

"This is," his eyes find those of his friend for a second before he continues. "My financial adviser," Alois explains and clings to the shoulder of his friend. I nod and offer him my hand as well. He shakes it firmly and his eyes gaze determined into mine.

"My name is Ciel."

No last name. It's confounding and it intrigues me. "It is a pleasure to meet you both. Can I offer you something to drink; water, tea or coffee?"

"A tea, please. Preferably with honey," Alois replies coyly.

"Espresso. Black."

I blink surprised at Ciel and can't help but smile. "I'd also like an espresso Hannah, thank you. Please, have a seat," I gesture to the seated area of navy leather couches.

Ciel strolls over with nonchalance in his step and Alois follows him dutifully, his moves more cautious. I sit across from the two and wait for Hannah to bring around the drinks before starting the conversation.

"First of all, welcome, the both of you. You have to forgive me because I am not entirely sure what the reason of your visit is," I see Ciel roll his eyes in exasperation. His attitude both irks and amuses me. "My chief of editing made this appointment so," I clap my hands. "Pray tell to what I owe this pleasure."

Alois exchanged a look with Ciel, as if he needs approval, before turning his attention to me. He exhales and reaches into his satchel. "I came here because I have written a book," he retrieves a bundled manuscript and carefully places it in his lap. "I started writing this when I was studying journalism," he strokes the package lovingly. "And Ciel encouraged me to finish it and get it published. When he finally convinced me, I knew I only wanted the best publicist to look at my work."

"You flatter me, Mister Trancy. It was not necessary for you to come to the office though. You could have mailed it just as easily."

"No," Alois swallows and holds out his hands, presenting me with the manuscript. "I would like you to read some of it and tell me your opinion to my face. I couldn't handle a written rejection."

I frown and take the bundle from his hands. "I am not sure if I could give an founded opinion if I only read a bits and pieces."

Alois shakes his head. "Base your opinion on the parts you read. I am more than certain that it will give you a good impression of the entire book."

"Very well," I take the manuscript and adjust my reading glasses. "It might take some time," I warn him. Alois smiles and makes a hand gesture, ushering me to start reading. I suppress a sigh, sit back and turn to the first page.

* * *

I read in silence. The tension radiating from the new writer is palpable. I can hear the friction between the couch and his jeans as he shovels nervously in place. I can feel his eyes burning on me as I turn page after page.

After what must have been at least twenty minutes, I close the manuscript and place it carefully on the coffee table in front of me. Alois perks up and regards me anxiously. I take my glasses off, put them back in the inside pocket of my jacket and rub my chin, nodding slowly.

"It definitely has potential," I admit. "And I might consider to publish it."

"Really?" All the tension from Alois's face disappears and he grins eagerly. "Blimey, that would be fantastic, right?" He turns to Ciel for confirmation. Ciel nods without a word.

"Please let me finish," I interrupt and hold out my hand to keep Alois from speaking further. "I would have to take this up with the head of editing, because I am not sure if there are any editors available. If you give me just a moment, I will page him."

I stand, walk to my desk and pick up the phone. "Hannah, page William and tell him to come up immediately," I hang up and turn back to the two males with my hands in my pockets. "He will be here shortly. Can I offer you another drink?"

Ten minutes later, William is standing in my office and leafing through the manuscript, occasionally reading a full passage. "This is actually very good," he muses. "And you're the writer?" He looks at Alois, raising his eyebrow.

"I am, Sir," he responds with a nervous smile. William looks up at me and shakes his head.

"This is a very good concept and I would love to edit it. Fact is, all the editors are already making overtime to work the scripts they are handling right now. We don't have an editor who'd have time to give it the attention it deserves," he tells me coolly before turning to Alois. "I am sorry, Mister Trancy. I don't do this lightly because I am convinced it is a raw masterpiece, but it might be best if you hand it over to a publisher who has the time and resources to publish it as soon as possible. There are some companies I could recommend to you-"

"No!" Alois cries, probably louder than intended. He shrinks back and looks sideways at Ciel. "No," he repeats with a little less volume and shakes his head. "I don't want another publisher. I'll wait if I must, but I won't take my business to another company."

I raise my eyebrow and exchange a look with William. "Mister Trancy, I can assure you that other publishers are just as capable and organized as ours."

"I said no," his voice suddenly more composed and arctic than I had heard before. I look into his icy blue eyes and see an emotion different from nervous flicker in them. I frown at him and his expressions shifts back to coy. He smiles and apologizes. "I just want it to get the proper attention and devotion you put in all the books your company publishes."

Williams looks at me, his brows furrowed. I exhale a long sigh and drag a hand through my hair. "We'll see what we can do."

"Sebastian," William hisses. "You cannot do that. You cannot put even more pressure on the editors. Unless you're willing to hire another one, we have to decline this manuscript."

"Well," Alois turns to his left. "Ciel is an editor," he suggests.

My eyebrows perk up in surprise and I look from Alois to Ciel. "I thought you were his financial adviser?"

"I am," Ciel nods and throws a demolishing look Alois's way. "I am also an editor though," he admits quietly.

"Isn't that a coincidence?" William asks coolly and watches the two with suspicion. "And let me guess. A condition of your contract would be we'd hire your friend here or else you'd take your business elsewhere?"

Alois bites his lip and fumbles with his hands. "I had not considered that option yet, but if you put it like that, yes, that would be one of the conditions."

"Well then, I suppose you can let your friend apply like every one else and we can look at his curriculum and decide if he would fit in this company or-"

"Where did you get your degree in editing?"

I can feel William's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. I ignore it and turn my attention to Ciel. He looks me square in the eye without even blinking once.

"I attended Oxford University where I studied linguistics and philology. After that the London school of Publishing," he answers.

"Really?" I purse my lips and nod slowly. "Very impressive. Is Professor Dalrymple still working there?"

Ciel chortles and nods. "Yes. She's still terrorizing the students with her irksome syntax speeches. It's profoundly disturbing."

"That it is," I agree with a small smile. "Than I have to ask. Why are you here as his financial adviser? Or was that just a clever ruse like Mister Spears suspected?"

Ciel shrugs and shakes his head, nonchalance in the entire gesture. "It was no ruse, and I assume you can figure out for yourselves that I am not really a financial adviser. He was actually too scared to come alone and is too darned proud to admit it."

"Not true!" Alois cries. "Tell them it's not true."

The two start a minor discussion. I turn to William and give a quizzical look. He persistently shakes his head. I frown. He frowns. I give him a stern look and then turn back to the bickering two. "Ciel. If you can provide me with your curriculum and information, I am willing to offer you a temporary position as assistant editor. We, William and I, will evaluate your progress within a month and if it is positive, I will offer you a permanent position. If that will also give us the rights to publish the book."

"Seriously?" He asks. His cool expression is gone a is replaced by a look of genuine surprise.

"Very," I reply. "William will take you to the Contracts Department and to Human Resources. After that I am sure he will show you around the building, won't you, William?"

His glare is destructive. I know he hates me right now. It is entertaining.

"Naturally, Sir. As you wish," he replies and takes a short sarcastic bow. "If you would follow me, please," he gestures to the door. Alois jumps to his feet and jolts towards me.

"Thank you so much," he grabs a hold of my hand and shakes it exuberantly. "Thank you for this amazing opportunity. I'm thrilled to be working with you."

"The pleasure is mine, Mister Trancy," I look past his excited face and shaggy blond hair at Ciel. He's standing by the door way, exchanging some cool pleasantries with William. I feel a certain anguish in my chest. One I cannot explain properly. I focus my attention on Alois again and smile down on him.

"We would be happy to publish your book. William will take you to the Contract Department to get everything put down on paper properly."

"Yes, of course," Alois's cheeks flush and he lets go of my hand. "Thank you," he mumbles one more time before scurrying to Ciel's side. He looks at me with his cobalt blue eyes and nods. _Thank you_ - he mouths with a small smile and walks out, followed by his twittering friend. I watch them walk away, Ciel in particular.

"I thought therapy was supposed to help you control that nasty habit."

I cock my head to the right and look William in the eye. His gaze is stern and provocative. "After the John Brown affair, you promised me this would not happen again."

"What the devil are you talking about?" I frown. "You said it yourself; If we want to publish that book, we need a new editor. Oxford and the London school of Publishing, this kid knows his stuff. Besides," I feel my lips curl into a wicked grin. "He reminds me of you; nearly as frigid. I'm sure you two will get along perfectly."

"Me?" William stammers perplexed. "You don't mean to say... It has been ages since I had to train a new editor, you know that."

"I do," I nod and lick my grin. "But this should teach you not to cross me anymore. That was a bastard thing to do; St. James Square. Very clever. You banging this woman or what?"

Without getting flustered, William repositions his glasses and shakes his head. "None of that sorts. She is a very qualified pr agent and works hard. I would hate to see her leave."

"How endearing," I scold while walking over. "But thanks to the incompetence of your qualified pr-woman, I have to call legal to look through the conditions of the Lander's contract to see if he has any ground to sue us for breeching it."

"I reckon the conversation with him did not go as planned," William points out dryly. I chuckle low and shake my head.

"No, because I had not planned to have a conversation like that with him at all," gently shoving William out of my office, I grab the knob of the door. "Good luck with the new protege," I say and close the door to block out his inevitable sardonic response.

* * *

Nervous Nellie here. Would love to know your opinion. On both chapters.

Review please, and I shall deliver.

Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**WRITER'S NOTE:**

So, weird thing. New chapters don't show up in my email account. Anyway. Again. You will not understand anything from what you're about to read when you haven't reread the first two rewritten chapters. So.. you might want to do that. No pressure though.

Have fun!

* * *

Making your way to work in the morning rush is a lot less of a hassle when one is pleasantly parked in the back of a big town car and gets to watch the morning traffic go by from behind thick tinted glass. I finish up a last email and look from my BlackBerry to gaze out the window. It's raining. Nothing unusual. The crowd of working people is a sea of dull umbrellas and raincoats. I shift in place and lazily cup my chin with my hand.

"It's raining cats and dogs today," Tanaka says. An entirely unnecessary observation. A fair attempt to some polite smalltalk though. I hum in response and return to observe the sidewalk. Amongst the mass walked a certain individual that managed to capture my attention. Someone I had met only yesterday but who had already intruded my mind on several occasions. I blink twice and look closer to be sure I'm not about to set myself up for complete embarrassment. Surely it is him!

"Tanaka, could you pull up to that curb," I lean in and I stretch out my arm past my driver's head, pointing to a free spot up ahead.

"Certainly Sir," Tanaka replies and smoothly steers us out of traffic and parks the car between an old Volvo and a blue family car.

I wait, impatiently. My fingers drum an unhinged rhythm on the armrest while I peer through the left fender mirror to see if he is coming yet. At long last he emerges in the crowd, hands deep in the pockets of his navy peacoat and head bent to shield his eyes from the pestering rain. I press a button and the window slides open soundlessly.

"Good morning, Ciel."

Ciel stops in his track, so do several other pedestrians. Fearing he might not overhear, I called out his voice a little louder than anticipated, attracting the attention of others as well. I ignore it coolly and focus solely on my new employee.

Ciel looks left and right before stepping forward and bending down to level his head with mine. "Good morning Mister Michaelis."

"Fancy seeing you here," I continue. Ciel furrows his brows.

"This is the only route to the office. It's not that much of a surprise that we're running into each other," he stops and looks at the car, "although I must admit it is mighty peculiar to pick me out of a crowd from the back of a town car," he motions to the vehicle, "are you by any chance stalking me?" He finishes and grins cheeky at me. I snort in discontent.

"Don't deem yourself important enough for me to skulk after like some lovelorn pursuer. I have better things to do with my spare time," I reply in low sophisticated voice.

Ciel chortles low and gives me a splendid smile. "I reckoned, Sir. Well, I have to run, otherwise I will be late for my first day of work. I suppose I will see you there," he offers me another smile and straightens his body to leave.

"Ciel," I call and beckon him to lean down again. "I did not let my driver pull up to the curb to have an amicable chat. Please get in the car, you're getting soaked through and through."

Ciel arches an eyebrow at me and throws a skeptical look around the back of the car. "I'd be getting your fine couch wet, I already am soaked to the bone. It's really not that far to-"

"Get in the car, kid," I interrupt him impatiently. "It is not an offer," I open the door and get out, making way for him to slide in. He looks quizzically at me and I gesture into the back. "Well? Are you waiting for a written invitation?"

"No," he mutters and reluctantly gets in. I slide in after him and yank the porter shut.

"To the office, Tanaka," I order and my driver follows it without question, skilfully navigating the car back into the traffic jam.

* * *

I cock my head a little, and Ciel is looking around the backseat in what seems admiration. "Fancy," he concludes after some moments of silence and he looks at me with a look I cannot decipher.

"Had you expected something else?" I cock an eyebrow. He shakes his head and caresses the cream-colored leather of the couch.

"Not really. Perhaps a hidden minibar brimful with expensive champagne, some disco lights," he tilts his head back to examine the ceiling. I shake my head with a reserved chuckle.

"You watch too many bad movies," I retort a little snide. He shrugs his shoulder with nonchalance and tells me that he just might. After, a dense silence fills the car and creates a massive elephant of unspoken or maybe even missing words.

I throw a casual look sideways at Ciel's frame every now and than. He's glaring out the window, his hand supporting his chin. He seems calm, completely at ease with the silence. I, on the other hand, feel beaten at my own game. Normally I am an epitome of composure, but being this close to a warm body, it was threatening to short shrift of all my good intentions and hard work. I am surprised I managed to keep a straight face when I told him to get in the car.

Ciel was exactly the type I would have prowled after in my previous life. William had not been wrong about that. It was all the more reason to proof to my colleague and friend that I was indeed redeeming myself. Confronting myself with seduction and resisting it, I was almost certain it would be a very clever method to test if my therapy was working respectively. Ciel turns his head, and I subtly look at the display of my BlackBerry.

"Pardon me for asking, but would you mind horribly turning up the heat a wee bit?"

I look up and blink clueless at Ciel. It was only now that I notice that his slender frame is shivering. I mentally kick myself for not picking up on this while I had been ogling him before.

"Of course," I instantly lean forward and turn up the heat to a more tropical temperature before Tanaka could do it himself. I sit back and smile reserved at Ciel. He returns it politely and proceeds to glare out the window again. Another loaded silence follows and I can barely stand it. I clear my throat and gently drum on the window to my left with my knuckles. "It is raining cats and dogs today." I can feel Ciel turn his eyes towards me again.

"I hadn't noticed, really," Ciel retorts dryly. I cock my head and meet the sardonic look in his blue eyes. I can only produce a wry smirk. Ciel arches an eyebrow and looks at me intently. After some seconds, he exhales and pushes some of the wet locks that are matted to his forehead back. "Is this a proper enough suit?" He tries to smooth out the wet dress pants. Large patches are a darker shade of gray being soaked by the unforgiving winter weather.

"It looks fine," I reply shortly and automatically smooth out my own suit. "A tat soaked, though."

"You don't say." Ciel says this with a smile that brings up the temperature in the car even further. I have to look away to hide how it affects me.

"I will send my assistant to get you a new suit," I punch in the numbers of my office and put the BlackBerry at my ear. "I'm guessing you have an unusually petite size for a male," he frowns offended at me, "it might just be best if you go with."

Ciel shakes his head vigorously and he tugs at my sleeve to get my attention.

"That really is not necessary," he protests. I raise my hand to silence him, bark some orders in my phone, hang up and turn to him.

"I cannot afford that you are ill during your first working week." I explain myself, "besides," my eyes wonder over the pants again. "If this is an index of your wardrobe, we'd best get you some new suits. I can hardly take you to an event dressed like that," I scoff snobbish.

Ciel looks at me with incredulity and frowns. I don't relent and regard him idly. He finally sighs and turns to gaze out the window again. "Fine," he snarls quietly. I feel a satisfied smirk tug at my lips but I don't give into it and proceed to scan through my mailbox.

The silence that is now clotting the air is even more tense than the previous one and it makes me more than uncomfortable. I glare out the window; we have hardly covered a mile. Something has to be done about the this situation.

"Tanaka. Put on some music, please," I beseech. He looks at me through the rear view mirror. I normally work on my way to work and request absolute silence. His pale blue eyes light up and he reaches out.

"Of course, Sir," he says while turning the audio system on. I instantly regret my decision when the caramel-laced voice of Gladys Grace echoes through the vehicle. I snap my head to my right. Ciel is regarding me a bit shrewdly. Seconds pass, our gazes still connected. I clear my throat quietly.

"Something wrong, Ciel?"

He scrutinizes me a little more and shakes his head. "Not at all, Sir. It's just," he pinches his bottom lip between his teeth, gathering the right words to scold me, I assume, "it is an odd choice of music."

I knit my brows together. It was not the answer I had expected so it actually takes me some seconds to think of a proper reply. "How so?"

Ciel frowns, and presses his lips together. "I don't know," he shrugs and stares intently at the audio system. "Guess it was not the kind of music I expected from- well. you," he finishes and now peers at me from under dark lashes. The gaze affects me more than I'd would like it to.

"It unnerves me," I inform him calmly. Ciel looks at me with squinted eyes before he accepts it with another shrug. Meanwhile Gladys moved on to a more romantic tune and it mutes the both of us.

I look him in the eye. Ciel stares right back at me. The trepidation was hard to ignore. I open my mouth to speak but hold back when Tanaka speaks up.

"We have arrived, Sir."

Lips a bit parted in surprise, I gaze out the window. My own building looms over the car like a severe mood killer. I'm not even sure if we have only just arrived or if we have been parked here for some time already. I nod and look at my shoes. Every bit of tension has left the air and balance was restored to its original form; I am the boss and Ciel is my employee. I turn to look at him and he smiles cautiously.

"I'm late," he admits, tapping his index finger on his watch. "And I am positive Mister Spears will not be pleased when I, on top of being late, go out to buy a new suit," his eyes twinkle with mischief.

I chuckle amused, waiting for Tanaka to open my door. "I will talk to William," I ensure him and step out. The cold October air calms whatever is plaguing me. Hannah is already waiting by the front door and upon my sight, she rushes over. I lean down an smile at Ciel. "Use this," I reach into my pants pocket and pull out my wallet. From it I take my Visa and press it in his hand. Before he can begin to protest, I straighten myself and turn to Hannah. "Go to Hugo Boss and step by Dior as well. My suits are ready to be picked up."

"Certainly Sir," she replies and slides into the backseat. I shut the door and cock my head to my driver.

"Westfield shopping center. I need you back here by one to take me to Heathrow," I order and head to the front door, going through a new batch of emails. I hear the car pull up behind me and urge not to think about Ciel trying on suits.

* * *

I arrive in the hall and make way for the elevator. A soft ping announces its arrival and the doors slide open soundlessly. People exit, greeting me dutifully. I enter the cubicle, press the button that takes me to the editing department and inspect my reflection in the mirror doors.

Arriving at the floor, I get off and head to William's office. He's hunched over his desk, flipping through and jotting in a manuscript while talking on his phone. I enter without knocking and sink down on one of the white Barcelona chairs. He spares me one look over the rim of his glasses before rolling his eyes back to the papers.

I sit back and cross my ankle over my knee. William finishes his conversation and calmly puts the receiver down. "Your golden boy has yet to make his appearance," he informs me coolly, his eyes gliding my way. "First day and he is already horribly late without even bothering to call and explain himself. I cleared my entire morning schedule and planned an entire introduction program," he spits venomously.

"Calm down William," I wave his anger away with nonchalance. "He is running an errand for me."

A muscle near William's eye twitches. "He is running an errand for you?" He repeats through gritted teeth.

"He is," I confirm with a short nod.

"Suppose you couldn't have called to inform me?" He retorts in an arctic manner. "When will he return of this supposed errand?"

"How was I supposed to know you were planning an editorial trip field? And, I'm not sure when he'll be back," I confess and shuffle forward, reading myself to take my leave. William arches an eyebrow at me.

"Not sure? What kind of an answer is that? What is he doing?"

I slowly rise to my feet and clearly my throat subtly. "I send him to Westfield to get a new suit," I mumble quietly and leap forward to the door.

"To get a new suit?"

William's voice is still calm; dangerously collected. I take the doorknob in hand and hesitate before turning back to him. He's still seated, his hands folded in front of him on his desk. I owe him an explanation.

"I ran into him on my way to work-"

"You came through public transportation again?" William's eyebrows perk up in surprise. I shake my head and sigh.

"Okay, I was stuck in traffic, alright? I saw him on the sidewalk. It seemed wrong not to offer him a ride."

"You have tinted glass," William points out dryly. "He probably would not have taken notice of you if you didn't invite him along for a ride."

"It does not matter," I drag. "I saw him. It was pouring. It seemed like the right thing to do."

"You're the director of publishing. He's an assistant editor. Offering employees a ride is not in your job requirement," he lectures me. I roll my eyes.

"It is sociable."

"You're not required to be sociable to your employees, it's your prerogative. Neither are you obliged to buy them new suits."

"He was soaked to the bone," I defend weakly.

"He should bring an umbrella."

"His suit looked ridiculous. It was a management strategy. We could not take him anywhere looking like he did. If he wants to roll in this world, he has to look the part. I require all my employees to look their sharpest, you know that, William," I reply cleverly.

William sighs, pulls his glasses off and rubs his eyes. "I know that, Sebastian, but you did not go and buy all your employees a new suit," he stops and leans back in his chair, scrutinizing me up and down. "I knew this was the Brown affair all over. I noticed the way you looked at him yesterday."

"This is hardly the same," I retort irked. "Now I must take my leave. I have a lot of things I need to arrange before I fly to Barcelona this afternoon."

His green eyes glare me over and after a short silence he pushes himself up. "We have to talk about this, Sebastian," he picks up his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his suit jacket, "you cannot will it away," he says calmly and places the spectacles back on his nose.

I squint at him. He doesn't budge. I exhale audibly and look him straight in the eye. "I promise it is not like Brown. You have my word, William."

He regards me shrewdly before he nods and offers me a somewhat consoling smile. "Alright. I trust you."

"Good," I smirk and turn to walk to the door. "Are there pressing matters you need to discuss before I take my leave?" I ask him from the doorway.

"Not really," William sits back down and reaches for another manuscript. "Will you be back in time for the venue checkup Thursday?"

"Naturally," I confirm, "meet me there by twelve," I say before closing the door.

* * *

The morning passes on uneventful. Emails need to be replied, mails has to be opened and I make some phone calls. Hannah gets back around eleven and I resist the urge to ask her about Ciel's new suit.

I have lunch at my desk, struggling through an email from the Paris office. William usually takes care of these, his French is impeccable, but as some form of retribution, he arranged all his incoming emails to be redirected to my address. It's so diabolically clever that I can't even get mad over it.

Half past one I lock up, give Hannah some final instructions and get on the elevator. My finger is drawn to the number of the editorial department but I refuse and press the button that takes me to the lobby. I occupy myself with a text to Charles Gray over counting down the digital numbers until I reached the twentieth floor.

In the lobby I simply nod at the receptionists, walk out and to my car that is already waiting for me. Tanaka gets out to open my door. Before I get in, I look him in the eye.

"Everything go well at Westfield."

"Of course, Sir."

I dare not ask any further and slide into the back. He closes the door behind me, gets in and pulls up. Perhaps a night in Spain will put me right back on my feet.

* * *

Shorter one. I hope to have the 4th out by the end of this week. Please let me know what your take is on this.

Thank you.


End file.
